


Tomorrow

by AshesOfLauren



Series: Exquisite Self Destruction [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Forced Orgasm, Heavy Angst, M/M, Rough Sex, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 20:52:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11471472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshesOfLauren/pseuds/AshesOfLauren
Summary: “Tomorrow I’m gonna leave here, I’m gonna let you go and walk away like every day I said I wouldAnd tomorrow I’m gonna listen to that voice of reason inside my head telling me that we’re no good”Tomorrow - Chris Young





	Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> **Edit: This was originally going to be a stand alone one shot, but our boys were screaming at me to tell more of their story. Who am I to deny them?  
> The stories are intentionally written where the point of view is up to the readers' interpretation, but I'll disclose at the beginning of each one whether it's the "Top" or "Bottom" whose eyes we're seeing through. Who's who is up to you. ;) I have no idea how many works will be in this series, but as of now I know there will be at least three.
> 
> This story is from the Bottom's POV. Read the tags/warnings, please.
> 
> Thank you so much to jadepresley for always being the absolute best beta in existence. The only thing I love more than your sharp eye and suggestions is your own work. ;)
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr:  AshesOfLauren 

_ “Tomorrow I’m gonna leave here _

_ I’m gonna let you go and walk away _

_ Like every day I said I would _

_ And tomorrow I’m gonna listen _

_ To that voice of reason inside my head _

_ Telling me that we’re no good” _

_ Tomorrow - Chris Young _

 

**Tomorrow**

 

Nails bite into flesh too hard, gouging crescent shapes tinged with red into my hips, and I cry out. I’m so close to tipping over that razor sharp line from pleasure to pain, but the hands that hold me just grip tighter still. The room is filled with the obscene sounds of skin slapping skin, labored breaths and moans, pleas and curses ringing through the night. The smell of sweat and come and alcohol is dizzying in its potency. The cock that pounds into me relentlessly is hard and angry, exactly like the man it belongs to; proud and stubborn and rough, too rough,  _ unbearably _ rough both on my body and my soul, yet still I open for him, crave him, beg him to fill me. _ One last time _ , I think. Because this is it, this is the last time I’m going to let my body be used and abused, the last time I’m going to subject my heart and mind to the sweet poison of the other man’s words, his promises and unintentional lies. As soon as we’re through, I’m walking away.

 

I moan even as I wince when a hand wraps around my cock and begins tugging with urgency, matching the rapid slap of the hips against my arse and trying to force yet another orgasm out of me. It shouldn’t be possible, not after coming twice already in less than an hour, but I can already feel that liquid heat like molten lava pooling in my core. My knees and back scream in protest from being rocked viciously on all fours for so long. The other hand lets go of my hip and lands in my hair, yanking my head back sharply. “You’re going to come,” he growls in my ear, and I whimper both from the threatening tone and the ache in my neck. “Do you understand me? You’re going to fucking come. I’m going to make you fucking come. Stop fighting it. You can’t resist me. You know you can’t. You know what I can do to you, what I can do for you. Come.” It’s a demand, and I fight it even though every fiber of my being is programmed to obey, because I know it’ll hurt in so many different ways. “Come!” And so I do, screaming as the fire rips through me and I coat the bed with hot, sticky, thick liquid, and it’s so much more pain than pleasure.

 

Behind me, the panting turns into a guttural groan and his hips begin to stutter, the cock inside me stabbing my prostate at uncoordinated intervals and sending pain lancing through my overly-sensitized body. Finally, finally, I feel the hot pulse of come shoot inside me and the warm weight of a body slumping over mine as I sag into the mattress. We breathe heavily for several long minutes before he pulls out of my wrung out body and rolls off of me, settling on his back. I keep my face buried in the pillow, trying to avoid the eyes that break down all my defenses and barriers, but a hand snakes under my jaw and forces me to look. I see the shock and self-loathing flit across the man’s face when he notices the tears pooling in my eyes. “I hurt you,” he says, and it’s not a question.

 

“I’m fine.” The protest is weak even to my own ears as the tears spill over to run down my cheeks.

 

“I always hurt you,” he says flatly, and there’s really no denying it. Every second with him is pain in some way or another — usually in several ways at once. 

 

The fucked up part is that every second without him is pain as well. I’m just not sure which one is worse. 

 

I swallow hard as those eyes soften and hands gently swipe the tears from my cheeks. “I don’t think we know how not to destroy each other,” he murmurs, kissing one wet eye. “Maybe we can figure it out,” he says even softer as he kisses the other.

 

I allow myself to be pulled into strong arms, relaxing and trusting fully within his embrace, and I ignore the insistent voice inside my head that’s screaming at me that it’ll never happen, that we’re no good together, that we’ll only ever bring one another tears and sorrow and misery. I know it’s true, and I’ll face it. I will.

 

Tomorrow.

 

_ “We’re like fire and gasoline _

_ I’m no good for you, you’re no good for me _

_ We only bring each other tears and sorrow _

_ But tonight I’m gonna love you like there’s no tomorrow” _


End file.
